e him to come
and have a talk with me.'

'What of Mr. Grail?'

'Ah, Grail is faithful. Yes, Grail is the man of them all; that I am
sure of. I am going to ask him to stay after the lecture to-morrow. I
haven't spoken privately with him yet. But I think I can begin now to
establish nearer relations with two or three of them. I have been
lecturing for just a couple of months; they ought to know something of
me by this time, On the whole, I think I am succeeding. But if there is
one of them on whom I found great hopes, it is Grail. The first time I
saw him, I knew what a distinction there was between him and the
others. He seems to be a friend of Ackroyd's, too; I must try to get at
Ackroyd by means of him.'

'Is he--Grail, I mean--a married man?'

'I really don't know. Yet I should think so. I shouldn't be surprised
if he were unhappily married. Certainly there is some great trouble in
his life. Sometimes he looks terribly worn, quite ill.'

'And Mr. Bunce?' she asked, with a look of peculiar interest.

'Poor Bunce is also a good deal of a mystery to me. He, too, always
looks more or less miserable, and I'm afraid his interest is not very
absorbing. Still, he takes notes, and now and then even puts an
intelligent question.'

'He has not attacked you on the subject of religion yet.

'Oh, no! We still have that question to fight out. But of course I must
know him very well before I approach it. I think he bears me goodwill;
I caught him looking at me with a curious sort of cordiality the other
night.'

'I must have that little girl of his down again,' Mrs. Ormonde said. 'I
wonder whether she still reads that insufferable publication.
By-the-by, I found you had told them the story at Ullswater.'

'Yes. It came up _a propos_ of my scheme.'

A gong sounded down below.

'Twelve o'clock' remarked Mrs. Ormonde. 'My birds are going to their
dinner--poor little town sparrows! We'll let them get settled, then go
and have a peep at them--shall we?'

'Yes, I should like to see them--and,' he added pleasantly, 'to see the
look on your face when you watch them.'

'I have much to thank them for, Walter,' she said, earnestly. 'They
brighten many an hour when I should be unhappy.'

Presently Mrs. Ormonde led the way downstairs and to the rear of the
house. A room formerly devoted to billiards had been converted into a
homely but very bright refectory; it was hung round with cheerful
pictures, and before each of the two